


Quirrell’s Moonlit Stroll

by wooden_duck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 14:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13615362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooden_duck/pseuds/wooden_duck
Summary: Snape has been watching that lowlife Quirrell. He's up to something, but what? Tonight Snape will finally confront Quirrell and find out.





	Quirrell’s Moonlit Stroll

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, here's another bit of comedy gold for you all. I'm posting this on behalf of the author who is a close friend of mine. We wrote stuff like this in high school together all the time all those years ago, although this time all the credit goes to her. Please read and enjoy, leave a comment to say hi at the end!

It had been a long, tiresome day for Quirinus Quirrell. Perhaps he could have managed the four back-to-back classes he was teaching if he hadn’t had Fred Weasley set off a pocketful of dung bombs in the room. Perhaps he could have handled even the boy’s nonsense if his patience hadn’t run thin from the class before, where Gregory Goyle had hexed a classmate. And still, perhaps all of the above could have been managed if not for his searing headache- one caused by nothing short of the Dark Lord attached to the back of his head. A very angry Dark Lord.

As soon as Quirrell retired to his chamber after supper (where Snape was casting him filthy looks over his pudding), he sighed and unwrapped his purple turban, the one concealing Voldemort’s face.

“ _Another day passed by and we are no closer to getting the stone_!” A high voice rang out immediately. Quirrell knew who _that_ belonged to. He knew he had disappointed his master.

“T-t-terribly s-sorry m’Lord,” Quirrell stuttered. He was exhausted, and to make matters worse he needed to grade an entire stack of papers.

The Dark Lord spat on the floor. “ _You miserable excuse for a slave. We’re going to spend the night grading papers, I expect_?”

“W-well I need t-to have them done f-for tomorrow-”

“ _You miserable half-blood! Wrong. We’re going to get our final piece of information tonight_.” Quirrell knew what the Dark Lord was talking about immediately. He had been attempting to extract information from Hagrid about the Cerberus he was keeping at Hogwarts. Quirrell knew _why_ it was there- to guard the Philosopher’s Stone that his master desired. What Quirrell wanted to know, however, was how to get past it.

“I’ve a-already s-spoken to th-the half-breed. He won’t t-tell!”

“ _There are ways, Quirrell… he’s off to the pub tonight, and I think I’ve found a use for that dreadful dragon egg you’ve got_.”

Quirrell was instantly opposed to the plan. He had been holding onto a dragon egg for months- a Norwegian Ridgeback egg, specifically. Dragons had always fascinated him, and he wanted one of his own- for academic purposes, of course. The egg that he had now was baking in flames of enchanted fire, meant to emulate a real dragon’s nest, and it was almost ready to hatch.

Quirrell feebly began to argue. “B-but my Lord-”

 

“ _I cannot believe_ ,” Voldemort interrupted, “ _That there are others out there that possess the same level of insanity that you do. The giant will be more than pleased to be given the dragon egg, and he will tell you all you need to know, I am sure. Quickly, Quirinus, he will be at the pub by this time, drowning himself in firewhisky_.”

Quirrell hesitated at first, but knew that he had no choice but to obey. Quenching the fire, he drew his mustiest of black robes, put his hood up, and walked out of his bedroom, dragon egg in his pocket.

  * \- -



Hours later, Quirrell was walking back to Hogwarts, triumphant. The plan seemed to go off without a hitch- the half-breed took the dragon egg willingly and let slip exactly how to surpass the Cerberus. As Quirrell walked back to the castle, he was practically skipping with glee. However, he couldn’t ignore the fact that his head was still searing in pain.

“ _I must admit myself pleased, Quirinus_ …”

“T-thank you, m-my Lord, you a-are only t-too kind-”

“ _However_ , _I could not help but notice that you were being watched. If I am not mistaken, a certain Hogwarts colleague knows precisely what happened tonight_.”

“I b-beg pardon?” Quirrell’s heart skipped a beat. No… it couldn’t be… he had kept his hood down… not even the half-breed had suspected…

“ _Severus Snape recognized you in that pub, if I am not mistaken, Quirinus. I would recognize his greasy visage and hook-nose anywhere_.”

Snape was the only professor at Hogwarts that Quirrell feared. Even with the power of the greatest Dark Wizard in the world on his side, Snape was still a thorn in Quirrell’s side. If it had been any other professor… no, it had to be the one that kept Quirrell awake at night, tossing and turning.

“ _Don’t be foolish, Quirinus. If I’m not mistaken, Severus will already be waiting for you at the castle_.”

-     -

As the Dark Lord had predicted, Snape was waiting for Quirrell at the castle doors. His long greasy hair was illuminated by the torches lining the castle walls. Quirrell gulped.

“Out for a moonlit stroll, Professor?” Snape drawled. He had a smirk plastered on his face.

“E-excuse me, S-Snape, I’ll just be ne-eeding to get t-to my office.”

He tried to push past Snape, who stuck his arm out to block Quirrell’s entry.

“Not so fast,” Snape muttered. Each of his words was like a dagger. Quirrell could hear the satisfaction in his voice. Snape knew about the dragon egg, he knew that Quirrell was trying to get past the Cerberus, he knew he was trying to get to the stone.

                “Now listen to me clearly. I warned you what would happen if you made me your enemy, Quirrell.” The turbaned man opened his mouth to protest, but Snape continued to speak. “You will follow me to my office and tell me exactly why you decided to visit the pub tonight carrying an illegal dragon’s egg.”

                He had no choice. Keeping one hand on his wand (concealed beneath his robes) and one hand clutching his forehead (which was still burning), Quirrell followed Snape into the dungeons.

  * -



Not a quarter of an hour later, Quirrell was in Snape’s office, sitting in an armchair trembling. Severus’ back was turned to him, searching through his store of potions. When his hands fell upon a miniscule flask, one filled with a colourless liquid, he turned around.

“Do you know what this potion is, Professor?”

Quirrell shook his head, although he knew fully well what was inside the flask. His head was in so much pain he wondered why he hadn’t passed out yet.

Snape smirked again. “I should have thought even the dimmest of wizards would be well-aware that I am currently holding a flask of veritiserum, the most powerful of truth serums. A few drops of this and you’d be spilling your deepest secrets,” he leaned toward Quirrell so closely that he could smell his breath. “Your deepest and _darkest_ secrets.”

“N-now P-professor, let’s be c-civil…”

“The time for that is over. I am now going to call over the headmaster himself so you can explain yourself to him.”

Quirrell was trembling more than ever, his breath was uneven and shaky. He would be sent to Azkaban, he would be killed…

_“Kiss him.”_

The whisper came out of nowhere, and though it was quiet, Quirrell could hear it clear as day. “P-pardon?” He asked, not believeing what he had heard.

“I _said_ ,” Snape droned on, “that I am going to call-”

“ _Kiss him, Quirinus._ ”

Quirrell suddenly, awkwardly, stood up and grabbed the Potions Master’s broad shoulders. Snape was immediately speechless, and reflexively moved his own hand to his pocket and grabbed hold of his wand. “Quir-”

But whatever Snape was about to say was silenced immediately as Quirrell pushed his lips to his. It lasted for half a second before Snape pulled away. He had his wand drawn, but he wasn’t pointing it at Quirrell. He was merely holding it out in shock.

“ _Again.”_

“This is highly inappropriate behaviour, Professor,” Snape whispered. He spoke quietly, in utter disbelief. But his eyes betrayed him. Was that a spark Quirrell saw?

 “C-call me Q-Quirinus,” the Dark Arts Professor murmured as he moved closer again. He looped one of his arms tightly around Snape’s waist, pulled him forward, and met him with another kiss. This one lasted longer than the first, Snape’s supple lips making contact with Quirrell’s. When Snape broke it off, Quirrell pulled him in again.

Their kisses became faster, more violent and more passionate. Quirrell couldn’t help but enjoy himself. Before he knew it, Snape was mirroring his own motions, his hand now firmly around Quirrell’s waist. And when Snape began unbuttoning his cloak, Quirrell felt himself getting a hard-on.

“ _Take off his robes,”_ the voice instructed.

Quirrell followed suit, and soon enough both men were stark naked in the middle of Snape’s office. Quirrell couldn’t help himself, when he saw the Potions Master’s erect penis, he moaned. He couldn’t help it- long and tall, it resembled nothing less than the elder wand. Evidently, Snape heard him, and raised an eyebrow.

“Speechless, are we, Quirrell?”

Quirrell nodded, ready for whatever was coming. His heart was beating fast against his chest, not out of fear, but out of excitement. He knelt down on the floor.

“Well then,” Snape said, stepping forward until his langer was level with the face of the Dark Arts teacher. “Let’s see what you make of this.”

“ _Take him, and don’t disappoint me, Quirinus._ ”

As he propelled his mass of flesh forward, Quirrell opened his mouth wide and took Snape in. As he held the penis in his mouth, Snape moaned with pleasure, grasping Quirrell’s bared shoulders and turbaned head. When Quirrell finally let him go, Snape’s penis erupted with a white, silky liquid, drenching him.

 

“ _Enjoying yourself?_ ”

“Yes, y-yes My Lord!” Evidently, Quirrell had forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to respond to Voldemort’s voice. However, Snape assumed that he was speaking to him, and grinned darkly.

“My Lord, eh, Quirrell? I _do_ like the sound of that one…” Snape moved forward and began to kiss Quirrell’s exposed chest. Both men were on the ground now, the Potions master lying on top.

“You know Quirinus, I have spent many an evening whomping my willow in anticipation for a night like this one…” Snape’s mouth eventually began to move downward, from chest to pelvis, until he reached Quirrell’s member and took it inside of his own mouth.

Quirrell had never felt such immense pleasure, and it took all he could not to cry out. He felt as though he was drunk off of hundreds of bottles of firewhisky.

When Snape resurfaced, he locked his lips with Quirrell’s once again. He almost didn’t notice when the Potions Master drew his hand out and began to fiddle with Quirrell’s turban.

“N-no,” Quirrell said, grabbing Snape’s hand with his own and intertwining their fingers. He couldn’t have Snape finding out what was under the head scarf. “It... er… m-makes the experience b-better.”

“Very well,” Snape growled, moving again to kiss Quirrell’s neck and shoulders. Quirrell ran his nimble fingers through Snape’s mop of unclean, black hair. He stopped suddenly, and reached for his wand that had fallen to the floor. “I have an idea.”

Snape pointed the wand at Quirrell’s already erect and leaking phallus. “ _Engorgio_ ,” he muttered, smiling wickedly as Quirrell’s penis swelled immensely. It was like a balloon, slowly inflating, getting bigger and bigger by the moment… by the time it finished enlarging, Quirrell could barely see over it. It was about the length of a broomstick, and Quirrell would have Snape ride it for the rest of the night.

When Snape stroked the shaft, Quirrell felt better than he had ever before. The entire length of his penis was overly-sensitive, and it felt like every molecule in his body was responding. He wanted, nay, he needed Severus Snape. But he knew that now was not the time to indulge. He felt the Dark Lord’s urgency. He needed to move on, his work was done. Snape was not going to call on the headmaster now.

Quirrell dejectedly pointed his own wand to his enlarged phallus and muttered the counter-jinx. As his shaft returned to its original size, he walked up to Snape and pulled him into one final kiss.

“Professor?”

Quirrell placed a long finger on Snape’s lips. “T-to be continued.”

As Quirrell walked out of Snape’s office stark-naked, satisfied grin on his face, he could almost have sworn that he heard a whisper coming from behind him.

“ _The Dark Lord knows how to reward his servants…_ ”


End file.
